Coming of Age
by E-chan5
Summary: Set sometime during JakII, eventually into Jak 3 Jak and Ashelin discover that happiness can be found in the darkest of times. Slightly AU. JakAshelin. DEAD
1. I Remember

A/N: This story is set somewhere in the middle of the Jak II game, and will eventually lead into the Jak 3 storyline as well,however it might be slightly AU considering I may have to make up facts along the way. It's a specifically AshelinxJak story, along with some TessxDaxter, and although this isn't particularly Keira-bashing it does tend to point out her faults, so if you like her, keep in mind that this story doesn't.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jak. Squat.

**Coming of Age**

_Chapter 1: I Remember_

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Jak was sure that there was a time when he could remember what it was like to be carefree and happy, but the feeling had escaped him, and he doubted it would ever return. With leaden feet and a heavier heart, the blonde warrior trudged down the hallway to the barracks of the Underground HQ. There was an…opening in the beds due to the losses from a recent Metalhead siege at the north gate, and Jak was out of money, so renting a room at an inn was definitely out.

Daxter was just as, if not more, exhausted than Jak, but while the ottsel was perfectly content to collapse onto the mattress and add his snores to those of the other Undergrounders, Jak found it painfully necessary to dress his throbbing wounds consisting of vicious bites and slashes criss-crossing his torso and arms, and finding _something_ to eat for Daxter, because he _knew_ the furry rodent would be pestering him in the morning for some breakfast if he fell asleep on an empty stomach.

Shuffling listlessly into the common room, Jak rummaged wearily through a pile of blueprints before unearthing a shoddy first-aid kit. Not much, some gauze bandages and tape and a tube of antiseptic, but it would have to do. Casting a searching glance over the room, Jak spotted a metal folding chair and settled warily into it, listening for the tell-tale squeaks of a damaged leg and, satisfied as the chair remained silent, proceeded to remove his tunic to treat his injuries.

The door banged open and Jak jumped, squirting a glob of antiseptic onto his knee rather than a particularly nasty gash just above his navel that pulsed with the beginnings of an infection. A ridiculously furious Torn stormed in and promptly knocked two rolls of city maps to the floor before kicking the table and leaning against the wall, breathing heavily.

Had Jak still retained an ounce of extra energy, he would have raised his eyebrow, but as he was exhausted beyond words, he simply allowed his eyes to linger on the ex-KG for a moment before scooping the ointment from his pantleg and smearing it despondently over the cut Torn's entrance had stolen Jak's attention from. There was no sound save the occasional hiss of pain from the blonde elf and the rasping breath of his elder as Jak finished coating the bites and slashes on his torso, arms and neck. Deciding to be tape-efficient, Jak simply wrapped his entire chest and stomach with gauze and secured the ends with clips rather than bandage each wound seperately.

"You got beat up pretty bad." Torn's words were unexpected, but Jak only replaced the tube of medicine and the extra bandages back into the metal box and clasped it shut, tossing it onto the table and tying his tunic around his waist. "Metalheads sure got you good."

"I've been worse," Jak answered wearily, without the usual venom he applied to his voice when speaking to the Underground general. Running a hand through his hair, Jak stood, preparing to stumble off in the search of food when Torn reached out and grasped the younger elf's arm as he passed, causing a brief sting of pain to shoot to his shoulder. Jak ignored it.

"Jak, uh…tell me. About yourself." Torn wouldn't meet his eyes, but immediately dropped his hold and folded his arms over his chest. "I've heard too many different stories," he added, as way of explanation for such an odd and abrupt request.

"They're probably all true," Jak mumbled, but relocated his chair and sat all the same, laying his head on his arms atop the table and closing his eyes briefly, before dark blue flitted open and fixed upon Torn's tattooed face once more. "What do you want to know?"

"About…about your home. I heard it was nice."

Jak snickered, the snort muffled by his arms and drained by fatigue. "Funny you ask that. I was just thinking about how I'm forgetting it. I remember there being…sand. And ocean. There was green grass, and the smell of animals. I lived near the farmer." For some reason, details were refreshing themselves in his mind as he struggled to recall them. Perhaps all he needed was to talk about it. "Yakkows. Smelly sons uh bitches. I usually stayed at Dax's. My uncle died when I was younger anyways."

"What about your parents?" Torn found another chair and plopped into it, straddling the back and resting his chin on his arms atop the backrest.

"I never knew them." Jak turned his head, yawning widely. "Not that many people in Sandover. But it was a beautiful place. I can't remember what the sunlight on my arms and back feels like, or the smell of clean water and air. I can tell you that sunrises and sunsets were stunning, but I couldn't tell you what colors they were." Jak cracked open an eye to stare sadly at Torn. "I was happy back then."

"You're lucky," Torn snapped at him. "Some of us have grown up knowing nothing but pain. At least you have memories of something good to fall back on."

"Is that better? To have something good, only to have it ripped away and replaced with hell?" Jak's voice took on a decidedly angry tone. "No one can answer that, because all have experienced either one or the other. When I was in that prison, in the beginning I thought it was good to have those memories, but as time wore on, I began to wish that it never happened. I wished that the only thing I ever knew was that prison, that cell, that-that Eco in my body, so that I couldn't be tortured with my own knowledge too, that there was something better, and that I'd had it." Jak's head lolled on his arms so that his face was hidden. "I knew paradise. I'm forgetting it, but I knew it at one time."

Torn's voice was silent as he shifted his weight on the chair, eliciting a squeal of protest from the metal. Just as Jak was beginning to doze off, he spoke again, his grave voice dragging Jak back to consciousness. "I had a fight with Ashelin."

"Am I supposed to care?" Jak's attitude was returning with his anger that he was being disturbed from a rare rest.

"It was about you. I wanted to send you out on a mission tomorrow morning, but she protested." Torn shifted his weight again, apparently uncomfortable. "She said I've been running you ragged."

"Why the hell does she care if I'm being run ragged?" Jak sighed irritably, peeking past his forearms at Torn, eyebrows furrowed.

Torn snarled his next statement. "Because she likes you, fucktard." There was a fire in his eyes that screamed of jealousy. "And I'm not talking about 'comrade in arms' like, I mean she wants you."

Jak regarded Torn with an indifferent eye before yawning again, tucking his face back into his arms. "I don't care. I haven't got the time or patience for a girlfriend."

"Then you'd better tell her then." The chair scraped against the floor as Torn stood, nudging the chair back into place with his toe. "Nobody has time to be happy these days. Don't think you're special."

"A few gallons of Dark Eco in my body would say different," Jak growled, but stood all the same. "But I don't feel special anyways. I feel like a freak."

"You _are_ a freak." Torn ignored Jak's outraged and slightly hurt expression. "To everyone else, you are. Don't forget that."

Jak watched silently as Torn sauntered from the room in a seemingly better mood, his fists clenching and unclenching with raging emotions. Finally, Jak settled upon weariness and returned to his search for nurishment for himself and a certain furry best friend sleeping soundly a few doors away.

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"Go away."

"No. I'm about to die. Move your furry ass over or you don't get a crumb of the bread I managed to steal for us."

At the sound –and now smell- of food, Daxter perked up immediately, rubbing his eyes and wiggling over to the wall so that Jak could slide tiredly beneath the sheets, sighing as his head sank into the pillow. At his friend's insistance, Jak produced the loaf of bread and broke off a chunk for both of them, setting the remainder of the loaf on his stomach. Daxter accepted the food eagerly, wolfing it down as quickly as possible. "This is the most wonderful thing I've ever tasted. Baby, you are a lifesaver."

Jak nodded, tucking his own piece into his mouth and chewing before tearing off two more pieces for them. "Dax," he mumbled through the crumbs, "d'ya think Ashelin likes me?"

"Uh, duh," Daxter answered, refraining from rolling his eyes as he felt his stomach filling, consciously leaving more for his larger friend. "I'm very sure she wants your body more than Tess wants mine. And that's sayin' something." Daxter gazed curiously at his friend, nibbling on what was left of the bread in his paws. "Why? You finally figured out that some female companionship would break you from this Dark and Brooding complex you have going?"

"Shut it, Dax. I was just wondering." As punishment, Jak crammed the rest of the loaf into his mouth, ignoring the dismayed whine of the ottsel curled comfortably in the crook of his arm. "Besides, even if I _was_ shopping around, Keira's apparently off the market." Jak's tone was bitter. "I'm not good enough for her anymore." Daxter felt Jak's muscles tense with repressed anger. "It's always, 'The Jak _I_ knew' or 'You _used_ to be' with her. Like I should have stayed the same. Maybe I should just tell her that Erol was the one who did most of the torture. Maybe she'd think twice about her 'perfect driver.' "

"Whoa, boy, calm down," Daxter urged, propping himself up on hind legs and folding his arms atop Jak's chest, leaning forward and peering at his face. "Don't worry about her, Jak. She's always been kinda snooty anyways, with her dad being a Sage. She likes to think she's pure and good and innocent, and that everything she does or likes is right. She wouldn't know what you and I do. We've seen the bad, and we've done it."

"Yeah," Jak answered softly, idly resting a hand on Daxter's back, his expression softening to regret and guilt. "We _have_ done some pretty bad stuff." He met his comrade's blue eyes with his own, both pairs filled with regret.

"Don't worry about what you've become," Daxter muttered, curling back up between Jak's chest and arm, laying his head on Jak's bicep like a cat. He was becoming more animalistic every day.

"Were you afraid of me?" Jak asked suddenly, the thought striking him with a deepening feeling of dread in his stomach at the expected answer.

"Yeah, a little. I mean, sharp claws and teeth in your face isn't exactly what I'd call cuddly." Daxter closed his eyes and smiled.

"No, I don't mean my dark side. I mean me, just Jak." Jak rolled onto his side, so that his back was to the door and Daxter was now spooned against his stomach and arm. "Were you afraid of who I was?"

Daxter opened an eye tiredly, fixing Jak with a reproachful glare. "No. Why would I be? Just go to sleep, Jak, I'm tired." With that, the rodent fell into a deep slumber, little body rising with each breath he took.

Jak watched Daxter sleep for a bit longer, then closed his eyes and fell asleep as well, unconsciously covering his friend with an arm as if to protect him.

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He's beautiful.

I've never been one to look for physical beauty in a man. Hell, I've never even been one to look for a man, other than Torn. But that was a long time ago, so long that despite his desire for it, it can't be revived. I'm sorry for that, very much so, but there's nothing I can do.

He's very young, seventeen from what I hear. That's so young, not compared to me, but to be involved in something like this, to be treated like that by my own father.

I heard. Of course I've heard. Who hasn't, with my barbaric oaf of a guardian broadcasting what he's done to the poor boy at ever corner? I've heard stories of what's happened by the other guards, some who's even treated him personally. I heard Erol go on and on, so gleefully, about his treatments. When I first saw him, I didn't know that he was the poor soul all that had happened to, but when I learned that he was Jak, that he was the experiment…

Mar, the guilt nearly destroyed me. The only thing I could do was shut down all my feelings about him. That's why I was so rude to him when he helped me in the bazaar. I couldn't look at him.

I saw him race. I heard that he's trying to win the championship so that he can get into the palace to kill my father. I don't know what to believe. I know he's been wronged and nearly destroyed by what my father did to him, but I can't let him kill Dad. No matter what he's done…

I'm also hearing rumors about him joining with Metalheads to get at Father. Normally I wouldn't believe such ridiculous claims, but Jak's never made it clear what side he's on. It seems like the only one he's out for is himself, and maybe that obnoxious animal on his shoulder.

Who is he? That's the question of the century. Who is Jak? No one even seems to know his last name.

My emotions have found it necessary to ignore the obvious danger in dealing with such an enigma, and decided to fall for this walking Pandora's box. Not because of his beauty, or bravery, or dare-devil antics (my heart nearly stopped seeing him pull those stunts on the track), but for the simple fact that he stills retains his humanity. Of all people, Jak is one of the few with a viable excuse to be a completely cold and uncaring bastard, but he still wants to save lives, despite what he says. He could shout all day that he's only looking out for himself and his best interests, but no one can ignore the look in his eyes when he has to kill another person, or when he sees the bodies of innocents the Metalheads have destroyed.

What is it about him that draws me to him?

And then there's that mechanic girl. It's painfully obvious that she has a thing for him, but she seems almost afraid of what he is. Fear in a relationship doesn't work. I've seen the monster he can turn into, and I'm afraid of that thing, yes, but this girl –Keira- seems to be afraid of Jak as a person. Perhaps because she's seen what he used to be? Supposedly, he was much different before two years of torture changed him.

But that kind of thing has that effect on people.

First of all, Jak only introduces me, and she has the nerve to get bitchy with me when I haven't even done a single thing to her. All I did was congratulate him on his victory and she automatically assumes I'm out to bed him like a common whore. That child has some growing up to do. She doesn't deserve someone like Jak, and she sure as hell couldn't deal with his complexity even if she did.

I didn't want to fall in love with the number one enemy of my father, but look what happens when a girl allows herself to be a girl again. For so long I've just regarded myself as soldier, a warrior, and it wasn't until Jak came along that I remembered that I'm a woman, too.

Speak of the devil…

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	2. Am I a Monster?

A/N: Woo! Next chapter done. I doubt they'll come out as fast as this one...I just wanted to get it done and out here. I just finished Jak3; that game rocks, and I can't wait to get to it. Somehow, though, I don't fell this chapter is up to par with the last one, but I've gone over it about a thousand times, and I can't find anything I can do to fix it. It's still good, hopefully, so w/e.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jak.

**Coming of Age**

_Chapter 2: Am I a Monster?_

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"Jak." The vixen nodded politely in his direction.

"Ashelin." The blonde leaned against the wall, crossing his arms over his broad chest, his face red with anger. There was an uncomfortable amount of silence as the two stared straight ahead, backs to a simple brick wall, entranced by the everyday view of hovercars circling lazily over ambling pedestrians.

Ashelin shifted her weight, contemplating something, and opened her mouth to speak when she was interrupted abruptly by a furious outlaw.

"Am I a monster?"

Slack jawed, Ashelin glanced over at him before quickly closing her gaping mouth, reaching up to comb her fingers through fiery locks. "Come again?" she asked, the only safe reply that would come to her mind when posed with such a dangerous question.

"I asked if you thought I was a monster." Jak refused to meet her curious eyes, his own sapphire blue as hard as stone, his fingers clenching unconsciously –or perhaps not- on the sleeves of his tunic, pulling the fabric. "If what I am is wrong."

"Jak, why would you ask that?" Ashelin pondered aloud; she couldn't very well say anything, seeing as how she didn't know the answer herself.

Jak sighed, finally turning to look at the guard, eyes now troubled. "Keira and I had a fight."

At the sound of the younger girl's name, Ashelin's stomach twisted and she felt a fire well up within her belly at the thought of the mechanic saying anything hateful towards this person, who had suffered so much already. "That isn't my problem."

Much to her surprise, Jak shook his head and chuckled, his knuckles regaining their color as his grip on his garment loosened back to a comfortable rest. "Ice cold. I thought so."

Just as Ashelin was about to demand an elaboration of this peculiar comment, an automated voice in the loudspeaker screwed into the brick above them announced the beginning of the Class Two Races with a tinny chime before crackling into silence once more. When Jak didn't budge, his elder nudged him with her elbow. "Aren't you going to race?"

"No," the elf spat, emerald brows slanting again in fury. "Let's see them last without me this time. I'm sick of being counted on."

"But if you're not going to race, who is?" Ashelin pointed out evenly, watching as his expression changed from anger to surprise in a split second. She fought the urge to laugh.

"Oh shit. Dax-" Jak pushed off from the wall, sprinting towards the stadium entrance for the stands. "Thanks!" he called over his shoulder, disappearing through the arches and leaving Ashelin to wonder what he was thanking her for.

Deciding against following him, she fingered the butt of her gun and marched over to a pair of guards that seemed as if they were enjoying themselves too much with the local women.

"Just what do you think you're doing?" Ashelin demanded, hands on her hips and a scowl on her face. The two men snapped to attention, the girls they had been flirting with slinking off not without a glare at the commander. Ashelin pointedly returned their animosity with a terrifying growl, causing them to slink quite a bit faster before returning her attention to the soldiers in need of a reprimanding. "You realize that you're on duty?"

"Yes ma'am," they answered automatically, anxiety plain despite their face masks. They stood at rigid attention, a position quite difficult to hold for prolonged periods of time, but Ashelin did not find it necessary to relieve them.

"And you realize that while you are on duty, you are to patrol the streets and assure the safety of the citizens as well as apprehend any fugitives?"

"Yes ma'am."

"Were those girls in mortal danger?" Ashelin felt her lip curl into a sneer, and reveled inwardly at her outlet for her anger towards a certain aqua-haired girl. It wasn't as if all the guards she led didn't talk about her rise in command without a hint of scorn anyways.

The guards exchanged looks, but did not answer.

"The question was not rhetorical, soldiers." She loved pulling rank. Oh, she practically _lived_ for it.

"No ma'am." Meek little mice, they were.

"We're they hardened criminals?"

"No ma'am." It was amazing what a simple tongue-lashing could do to two men in full body armor, armed to the teeth as well.

"Then I suggest that you go about your patrol, understood? Lest I find it necessary to issue you each two demerits for violating Krimzon Guard Code and contradicting a superior officer."

One of the guards started. "But ma'am, we didn't-"

Ashelin cut him off with another sneer. "Well, I believe you just did."

The man –hardly a man, he was only nineteen- snapped his mouth shut, fuming but remaining at strict attention.

"Continue," Ashelin finally dismissed them with a wave of her hand, stalking off towards the civilian entrance of the stadium, feeling a great deal better after blowing off some steam. There was a wanted felon she wished to sit beside and enjoy the race with.

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"Go Daxter, go!" Jak screamed, forgetting for a brief moment in time that he was a wanted man, that the stadium was practically _crawling_ with KGs, both in uniform and out, and that he was supposed to be miserable beyond words and angry at the world, because his best friend was now risking life and limb on the racetrack with seven other crazed drivers to ensure that they won so Jak could gain entrance to the palace.

The teenager winced as Daxter ran headlong into a barrier during a particularly sharp curve, but he soon righted himself and took the liberty of bursting into a blur of motion with a speed boost to settle back into a comfortable second place, tailing the lead like there was no tomorrow. Jak was so involved in watching the race that he didn't even notice when a Krimzon Guard marched right up to where he was sitting and stood, staring down at the elf.

"Would you move over?" Ashelin demanded, lightly kicking his shin. Jak obliged begrudgingly, eyes never leaving the zooming form of the ottsel. "Thanks. I'd sit with my men but, well, I hate them."

Jak uttered a noncommittal noise, then suddenly jumped to his feet, roaring with indignation. "Oh, for Chrissake! Did you see that?! Where's the flag, that was so intentional!"

"Jak, sit down," Ashelin hissed, grabbing his forearm and yanking. However, there was no moving the incensed youth as he continued screaming obscenities directed towards the driver that had the nerve to ram Daxter just as he passed into first. Ashelin groaned, clenching her fists; he was going to be discovered by some curious guard and then he would be thrown in jail, and she would be stripped of every title and dismissed from the forces if she was in the company of a criminal, not to mention that her own father would most likely throw her into prison along with the blonde.

"C'mon, Dax, kick their asses!" Jak hollered, regaining his grin as he saw Daxter flip the bird to the driver who had slammed into him and shoot by on a speed boost, sliding easily back into first place. "Thatta boy! Go Dax, go, go, go! Yeah!" His fist pumped into the air as Daxter and the other drivers –far behind said lead- lapsed into their third lap. "You got it! You got it in the bag, Dax!" Jak paused to grin wildly at the redhead sitting beside him. "You see that? He's great! I taught him everything I know!" Jak boasted, puffing out his chest and cupping his hands to his mouth to scream a loud, "Woohoo! Yeah!"

Ashelin shook her head, the beginning of a chuckle rising in her throat before exploding from her mouth in powerful laughter, causing her to double over and hold her gut. "Fuck this," she muttered, rising to her feet with her own smile on her face, and then used her own hands to form a megaphone around her lips. "Yeah Daxter! Go!" she screamed, surprising Jak for a moment before he smiled at her, and together they shouted in joy as Daxter shot into the final lap, still in first with an impressive lead.

But as Daxter neared the alcove in the middle of the track, something went horribly wrong. The daredevil ottsel had decided to win with style, and was about to use an unnecessary shortcut to perform a stunning jump when one of the back wings on his zoomer came loose. He smashed into the opposite wall after the jump, zoomer smoking dangerously, the little orange form slumped over the handlebars, unmoving.

Time seemed to freeze as Jak and Ashelin immediately fell silent, the former's body going completely rigid as his face went blank, his wide blue eyes staring at the vid screen above the track that displayed all the action inside the tunnels. The other drivers were catching up, and still Daxter did not move. "C'mon, Dax, you're okay," Jak muttered, teeth moving to bite his bottom lip. "C'mon," he said again, with a bit more urgency, a note of worry making his voice wobble.

Ashelin, without registering what she was doing, set a hand on his shoulder. His own hand flew up to cover hers, squeezing her fingers so tightly that it was almost painful. Daxter was passed once. Twice. No movement.

Jak's chest began to heave as his breathing grew erratic, blue eyes widening impossibly further. "Dax, please," was all he got out before the vibrant ottsel straightened, shaking his head and throwing his zoomer into full throttle, juicing up the engine with one of his three hoarded speed boosts as well.

Jak lunged forward, slipping from beneath Ashelin's hand and almost toppling from his seat into the stands below him as he screamed, face crazed. "Daxter, you sonovabitch! You gotta make a show of everything!"

Ashelin sighed in relief; she wasn't particularly fond of the annoying little rat, but she didn't exactly want the midgety freak to die. Besides that, who knew what Jak would do if Daxter were to die? Perhaps he would kill himself; perhaps he'd go insane and transform into Dark Jak and rampage through Haven. Neither option sounded very good to her.

"Go!" Daxter streaked past second place. "_Go_!" Jak's shouts grew in volume. Daxter edged up to the first place driver; Jak lost all sanity as he began jumping up and down, screaming at the top of his lungs. "**Go, you crazy fuzzball! Fuckin' _go_!"** There was a collective inhale from the crowd, the multitude paused, there was dead silence-

-the picture of the finish line flashed up onto the vid screen-

-the nose of Daxter's zoomer shot past.

The stadium burst into a cacophony of noise, the yells shaking the very earth beneath their feet, the cries a mix of anger, jubilation, astonishment, disappointment and adrenaline. Of all the shouts, however, Jak's was the loudest as he leapt atop the bench, once again circling his mouth with his hands and screaming wordlessly, his cry interrupted ever so often by peals of laughter.

Before Ashelin knew what was happening, the teenager had jumped down from his perch and swept her into a bone-crushing hug, shouting into her ear above the rest of the spectators, "Did you see him?! You saw him, right?! He won, that bastard actually won!" All too soon, Ashelin was released and Jak was once again bouncing up and down, screaming incoherently as Daxter descended shakily from his smoking zoomer to collect his trophy.

Ashelin stood frozen, the sensations of Jak's chest against her own and his arms around her body just now registering as they were gone. She would have blushed if she were the blushing kind of girl, but she only took the moment to examine the boy –or man, whatever- with a critical eye. He was doing something she rarely saw him do; smiling. He wasn't just smiling, either, he was joyfully ecstatic, as if _he_ were the one who had just won the race.

Maybe, in his own way, he was. After all, this victory was one more victory closer to him earning entrance to the palace, and the opportunity to kill Baron Praxis. But revenge and death seemed to be the last thing on his mind as he laughed along with the crowd surrounding him as Daxter flirtatiously blew a kiss to the voluptuous woman who presented him with his prize.

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"That was amazing," Jak reveled giddily. Ashelin guessed that if he were a little girl, he'd be giggling and clapping his hands right about now. Of course, if he started doing that, she'd be forced to seriously rethink her feelings for him.

"It was," she agreed, frowning at a citizen who elbowed her in his eagerness to leave the stadium. How she hated exiting crowds. "Jak, could we wait just a second?" she asked. "I hate getting swept up in all these people. Let's wait for them to leave first."

"Okay." Jak was in 'perfectly amiable, chipper-as-a-squirrel' mode now that he was guaranteed a spot in the Championship Race, and an opportunity to wipe the floor with that arrogant ass, Errol. The mercenary forcefully elbowed his way through the multitude, Ashelin taking advantage of his intimidating presence and following closely behind (not without admiring the view) to reach a previously emptied section of the stands. She cast another hateful glance towards the swarm of people around the exits before sitting down on a stone bench, Jak settling down next to her and propping his feet up on the seats below them, crossing his arms over his chest.

There was another uncomfortable silence and Ashelin decided to break it. "My answer's no, by the way."

Jak looked over at her, puzzled.

"To your question. From before. On whether or not you're a monster. My answer is no." Ashelin looked down at her hands and cursed inwardly; why did he make her so nervous now? Because they were technically alone? How infuriating. "A monster wouldn't go to his friend's race."

For a moment, Jak didn't answer and Ashelin, too timid to look over him, thought that he was angry with her for bringing up such a delicate subject. There was a pregnant pause; Ashelin's hands shook with anxiety, and she again swore at herself for her cowardice when he answered.

"Thank you." Jak turned to her, a rare, genuine smile on his face, his arms sliding down to rest on his stomach. "That means a lot. It really does." He turned his face to the smoggy sky, closing his eyes and breathing deeply, the grin on his face sliding off into a neutral expression. "You and Daxter are the only ones who've said that to me."

The silence wasn't uncomfortable anymore.

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"You really are proud of me?" the timid little ottsel questioned his friend, uncharacteristically meek in light of his recent win.

"Hell yeah I am!" Jak scoffed, slipping the jet board from his back and fiddling with a panel to slide it aside and flick the 'on' switch. The piece of equipment hummed, glowing a soft powder blue, and Jak tucked it beneath his foot, holding the anti-gravity slab of metal and circuits pulsing with blue eco with one foot, the other securing himself to the ground. "Really, I am. I almost went Dark when I saw you crash into that wall after that jump, though," Jak joked, then quenched his chuckle as the weight of his words suddenly hit him.

Daxter, however, played off the slip with all the grace he contained within his tiny body, which was quite a bit despite what others may have thought. "I wish you had. You coulda taken out the other drivers while I had a nice little nap, y'know, regained my energy."

"I bet you would have," Jak answered with a small smile, pushing off and expertly twisting around to avoid a group of giggling women, reaching up unconsciously to steady his friend.

"I think I should be the racer from now on, Jak," Daxter suggested, drooping wearily onto the shoulder guard of the elf, yawning widely. "The women are obviously more attracted to my rugged good looks than they are to your pretty boy face. At least let me handle public relations."

"Will do, Dax. I don't think the public likes me very much anyway," Jak smiled ruefully before it disappeared at the sight of a distrustful mother ushering her children away from him.

"They dun know what they're missin,' " Dax slurred sleepily, and Jak sighed, transferring the slumbering rodent from his shoulder to his arms, and then into his tunic as having a furball cradled in his arms greatly effected his balance. Daxter, too tired to protested or maybe even care, simply burrowed down further into the warmth and snored lightly, much to Jak's amusement.

As Jak propelled himself through the city, the wind whipping his hair behind him, he sank deep into his thoughts, pondering what had occurred earlier between himself and Ashelin…and himself and Keira. Keira didn't even speak to him when he congratulated Daxter; she didn't even look at him. Did she hate him now? Did he disgust her? Jak felt sick at the thought of someone so important to him despising him so much. He had thought that Keira would be with him through everything, like Daxter was.

Was he wrong? Was this the one thing Keira couldn't stick through with him?

Daxter and Ashelin had to be wrong. Two people against thousands weren't good odds, even if Daxter knew him better than anyone. He _was_ a monster.

"Snnrk…damn power cells…" Daxter muttered in delirium before falling back into dreamland.

Jak rested a hand on the bulge through the cloth on his chest, patting it awkwardly and feeling like what he thought an expectant mother would, only with a great deal more embarrassment. As he progressed into the more populated area of the slums, he reluctantly kicked up his jet board, pressing the button to collapse it and eased it into the holster on his back. He paused, fishing around inside his tunic for "Orange Lightening" beneath the stares of passersby. "Get out, Dax; everyone's looking at me funny."

The ottsel responded with a snort, completely ignoring Jak's order and shifting his weight. Jak yelped as he felt a cold, wet nose press against his skin, slapping angrily at the lump atop his stomach, earning him even more bemused glares from the slummers milling about him. "Daxter, get out right now, or I'm ripping you out and stomping you into the dirt."

There was a muffled sigh from his tunic, then a drowsy, fluffy orange head poked out from beneath his collar, drawing the attention of a giggling little girl who commented that she, "wanna pet the little kitty in the man's shirt," before her mother dragged her away forcefully by her arm, glaring daggers at Jak.

"Thanks, thanks a lot Dax," Jak growled as said best friend crawled pitifully back to his usual perch, draping pathetically over his shoulder and closing his eyes with a mournful sigh. "Now everyone thinks I'm some kind of child molester. Yet another flattering title for me to hold."

"We'll add it to the list," Daxter mumbled.

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A/N: Damn you Fanfiction, I don't know how to debug your fucking code, so I can't even put horizontal lines in my story. Rrrrr.

Anyways, I'm going to reply to reviews now!

**EtheralShadow**: I know what you mean. The second I see JakxKeira descriptions, my immediate, innate response is a surge of loathing for said mechanic. But some JakxKeira's have been pretty good.

And thanks. Torn's more of a bitch to write than I thought…I think I made him a little too soft, though. I'll have to make him extra angry next chapter. Dax is sweet…_someone_ has to be to poor Jak, considering he gets no sympathy elsewhere. ::coughs in Keira's direction::

Yeah, I'm glad I get to flesh out Ashelin's character a bit. And Jak did like her rather abruptly in the game; hell, maybe she's just a hott makeout partner for him. You never know. I'm going to try and make their relationship more believable with a touch of AU.

**-**

**Lunatic Pandora1**: Thank you! I like Ashelin too, and I wish they'd gone more in depth with her character. I like Jak and Ashelin as a couple because…well, Tess is taken and I hate Keira and Mary Sues must die. It's either Ashelin or male companionship, and I suck at writing yaoi.

**-**

**Demyrie**: Hee hee, _is_ it fantastic? I didn't think so, but thank you so much! Writing is one of the very few things I manage to do well, even though I spotted a couple errors in there.

Yeah, Torn was shakey. I have a hard time writing the little bastard.

I would've added the vocal slurs to Dax's dialogue,but lately people have been ragging on my other stories about writing speech phonetically, and I just didn't want to make that mistake _again_.

I love Jak and Daxter fluff too. Best buddies, through thick and thin and to the very end.

I am terribly honored beyond words! Although I do have something to say. Hee hee. I haven't read a hetfic in forever either, because of the simple fact that they seem to be dying out...

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**Von**: Yee! Thanks! I've been an A/J fan since I learned that Ashelin exists because, as I have stated before, I strongly dislike Keira. And I know; you'd think that if Keira was desperately in love with Jak, she'd at least see him off, like Ashelin did.

**-**

**Krin**: Thank you so much; it's great to get a review like that, especially from a Keira-lover. I don't like her character at all, but I'm gonna try and be fair. Hell, I'll probably even put a part of it in her POV, and not make her sound all whiney like normal Keira bashers write her. I'll most likely have her and her genius in there occasionally. Have you played Jak3? She's barely in it at all, and they made her look kinda funny, kind of more masculine in the face. She rarely talks, too, and shows almost no love interest in Jak at all. It's a bit sudden that she drops her affections, and I didn't like how they didn't explain that.

But yes! Thank you!


	3. To Hell in a Handbasket

A/N:Some pretty nasty language in this one. Jak and Daxter are not pleased. Also, you can all thank, um...I don't know which of my reviewers this is, but the one with the DeviantArt account RicciG for this next chapter. I was moving on to Full Metal Alchemist, which would gaurantee about a two month lag in the update, but I have been reinspired, and thus have revamped my desktop and music selection. To Jak. W00t! Oh, and there's a shoutout to Halo in one of Dax's lines. I just had to.

Disclaimer: I don't own Jak.

**Coming of Age**

_Chapter 3: To Hell in a Handbasket_

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Fuck fuck fuck fuck _fuck_! Shit, there aren't any KG crates nearby and holy hell do I need some ammo. My hands are starting to bleed; these Metalheads have some tough fucking skin. Dammit-

"I hate Torn, I hate Torn, _I Hate Torn_!"

"Daxter, shut up!" I hate being so terse with him, but if he doesn't shut it and hunker down, these things are gonna try and take a bite out of him. With his orange fur and loud mouth, he might as well wear a neon sign that says, "I am an appetizer."

Geezus, _shit_! Their claws fucking _hurt_! If I can just get enough Dark Eco…I hate changing, but at this point it seems like the only thing I can do now- I don't want us to die. As long as I keep hold just enough to make sure that Dax doesn't get hurt, it should be fine. I'm pretty sure I can clear a relatively good path back to the gate, and by then I can just sit through it on the dock before heading back to HQ. And from there, I will personally slather Torn in some BBQ sauce and introduce him to the hordes over here, that sorry bastard. Why, oh _why_ does he have to have so much confidence in me? Why can't he just send me on the easy missions?

Yeah, yeah, I know why. Because I'm the only one who can do the hard ones. I hate being so damn good sometimes.

"Jak! Will you pay attention?!"

I wish I could have the ability to multitask like some people, so that I can gag Daxter and fight at the same time. Flecks of blood are flying from my hands; I think I might've ripped a couple fingernails off, but I can't be sure because my limbs're flying around so fast, punching, kicking, fighting like a caged animal just to get _out_-

There. That should be enough Dark Eco. Let's pray to God it is. I can feel all the Metalheads backing up a bit, their instincts making them shrink back from the naturally superior monster; my skin ripples, and a haze descends over my thoughts, pushing me back into a kind of dream-world, but I fight it with all my strength. I have to stay here enough to realize that Daxter isn't an enemy.

What most people don't know is that when I change, transform, whatever they wanna call it, that another consciousness _doesn't_ take over. It's more like my instincts do, and my rational thought is kind of pushed to the wayside. Most of the time I'm aware of what's happening, but when I 'wake up,' I forget all of it and need to have the last whatever minutes recapped by Dax.

However, I had to think of something that would keep me from hurting Daxter. It had to be painfully simple and it hit me, thankfully, the first time I transformed; I just associate the color orange with the feeling of 'good,' and push that association so deep into my mind that every part of it acknowledges it. None of the enemies I fight have any color orange on them, so I can safely tear them apart, but also I can't lose it in populated areas because none of the civilians wear orange. It's too uplifting a color, and I'm sure that if he could Praxis would put a ban on all happy colors. Bastard. Just thinking about the slime makes my blood boil, and as I roughly remind my instincts 'HURT ORANGE EQUALS BAD' I feel my hatred welling up and fueling my strength, not to mention all the little gobs of Dark Eco being sucked in as I rip the Metalheads apart with my claws.

This is weird, really. Hell, I don't even know who I'm talking to. Who the hell are you? Some funky Eco-induced schizophrenic indulgence on my part, I guess. Whatever, no one but you and I are in my head, so it's not like it's going to matter, because I won't tell and you don't exist.

All right, this is getting old. I gotta take care of these shits, because I can feel my juice running low. The nice thing about my special powers is that no matter how low I am, I can still gather up enough Dark Eco to perform these attacks. I mean, sure I pay for it later with major pounding headaches, but fuck that. I wanna _live_.

Dark Bomb your asses, mother fuckers! Suck on some lethal amounts of Dark Eco, you blood-sucking, shit faced little pricks. How good that feels, just killing th-

-

-_Ugh_. Geezus, it hurts this time. Assess the damage; lots of bodies, but nothing living nearby. I really did a number on them, I guess. One of these days I should get Daxter to tape me while I'm going Dark, just to see what it's like. I wish I could remember what I do. Maybe I could get some fighting tips or something from…myself. That's an odd concept.

Actually, looking at what I've done…I'd rather not remember what I do.

Okay, checklist. Dax?

Fuzzball on my shoulder. Check. He's shaken up, but he usually is. From what he's told me, I tend to run us _both_ ragged when kicking major ass. He doesn't look hurt though, so I guess I behaved myself well enough. Good boy, me.

Gun?

Check. In my holster. Why didn't- Wait, that's right, I ran out of ammo. That's why I had to go Dark.

My body?

Mmm…little ripped up. That's okay, just a couple of fingernails missing. Nothing a few bandages won't fix. My knuckles are pretty bruised, too; I guess I'd better raid Krew's ammo storage facility, even if he does get pissed. I won't be doing any hand-to-hand for a while, lest I wanna break my fingers, which would make it quite difficult to grip a gun or pretty much do anything. I've got a cut on my face, too, and my shirt's a little shredded and bloody from where some nasty claws nicked me, but again, not that bad. It's stopped bleeding already.

Okay. Back to safety so I can sit down and take a breather, because my legs are shaking like crazy right about now. I think I overdid it this time; even Dax is being quiet, a sure sign that he's worried about something. Or scared for his life. Or mine.

Augh, too much thinking, not enough moving. Run faster, you sissy. Okay, big steel gate, stench of stagnant water…home sweet not-home. I sure hope these rickity planks'll hold up as I fall face-first onto them.

"Jak! Jak buddy, are you okay?" Dax's little paws are on my face, poking me, and I would bite him if I had the energy. However, it doesn't look like he's gonna stop unless I answer him, so I muster what energy I have left and mumble into the wood on my face, with a voice so soft that he has to lean down to hear-

"Fuggin…kill Torn…"

There's a sigh from my upper right, and then a little weight climbs onto my back and curls up, as if to protect me, which is really funny if I think about it. I could be laughing, but the shadows are making things a little muffled and I can't quite tell. Daxter's talking, but then again Daxter is _always_ talking, so I can pretty much assume that what he's really saying is 'blah blah blah I'm better than you blah.' He's such a good pal. Honestly, he is.

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* * *

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We're staggering, staggering, staggering, and-

We fall. Well, okay, Jak falls, and I jump off and land on the dock so that I don't get squished. He's not fat, we're both pretty skinny, but for the luvuh God, he's four times my size.

Eh, he's not moving. Bad thing, I'm sure. "Jak! Jak buddy, are you okay?" I skuttle my orange ass over to his shoulder and begin to prod his face, trying to wake him up. Stupid heavy sleeper, it always took for_ever_ to get his lazy ass up back in Sandover. Wait, he's trying to say something.

"Fuggin…kill Torn…"

Whew! He's okay. Well, since he's not making any effort to move around much, I guess it's up to me to keep us both safe. I'll just have to climb up here –for the height advantage, you see- and curl up, because it's getting a little chilly. I'm still not very used to cold; I mean, it was always hot in Sandover, and Snowy Mountain almost _killed_ me, I swear. Besides, I spent most of the time up there inside Jak's tunic anyways, because when it comes to me surviving those freezing winds, Jak can dance around in the snow all he wants by _himself_. I'll be nice and cozy, personal bubble be damned. I'm sure if Jak could haved talked back then, he would have chewed me out for staying where it was nice and warm, but what he doesn't know is that I was saving his life. Yes, indeed, without me and my furry self in there insulating us both, he could have very well gotten a chest cold and then pnemonia and then he would have _died_. But that's okay. I'm used to not getting thanks for my good deeds.

Besides, it's Jak. I'd do anything for him. And since I can see him slipping into unconsciousness, now would be a good time to tell him, especially since he won't be listening to me.

"I'd do anything for you, you know." My voice is really calm for some reason; I always imagined spilling my guts would make me nervous, but then again he isn't listening so why should I care? "Life or death, buddy, I'll stick with you till everything's over. If the Baron ever gets his hands you again, I'll fight and fight until I'm dead. I'm not leaving you again, Jak. I'm with you till we're both dead, and then, I hope we die together so that my last memory can be of you. You're my best friend in the entire world, and nothing can come between us, not money or women or danger or death. Till the end, Jak…and hopefully past that." Aww. He's smiling in his sleep. Keira'd get a kick outta this.

Or not. I can never tell with her; she's so complicated. Why is she all antsy over Jak's little quirks? Sure, his whole Dark thing can be a tad scary, but I'd be just as scared if it was her or even Old Greenie tearing through those things like that. It's not like it's just Jak that scares me; it's the fact that anyone could do that. Besides, she doesn't see how he suffers for it, like now. I sure hope we don't spend the night here. I don't have the heart to wake him for his watch, and I'd really like some sleep tonight.

I think I'll just entertain myself with growling at everyone that walks by. Yeah, lady, you get away from the rabid rat.

That's right, fatso, you jiggle off too. We'll get you later.

Ha, this is actually fun. Oh, KGs; fuck, pretend to be asleep.

"What do we have here?"

"Looks like a slummer and his weird…dog-thing. Or is it a cat?"

"Looks like a rat. Big-ass rat."

"Naw, I know what that is. That's one of those ottsel things; y'know, they're really rare and such, don't see 'em here because of the pollution." Dick has the nerve to nudge us with his boot and I can't help up popping up and glaring at him.

"Knock it off, flunkie! Can't you see we're trying to catch some much-needed shut-eye?"

I expected them to laugh at me. So when they didn't, and they only stared down at us both, you can imagine my anxiety. Jeering guards are good things. Absolutely silent, staring-contest guards are not good things. Bad things. Bad bad.

"What's going on here?" Familiar voice followed by familiar face- Ashelin! Thank God, I never thought I'd be happier to see her! Unless she was naked. That definitely would be better than now, with her looking down her nose at us, scorn hopefully all an act. Probably is. She's got the hots for my boy here. "Another bum, huh? What seems to be the problem, they're not all that uncommon."

"His rat just insulted us, ma'am."

I have to hold my tongue not to follow it up with another retort, but Ashelin thankfully does it for me with a smirk in his direction. "His rat. Insulted you."

Big and Stupid doesn't back down, though. "Yes ma'am. And he looks a little familiar. The guy, I mean."

"Well, probably. He's been in jail before."

Wait, what the fuck. Is she turning us in?! That conniving, self-serving bitch of a guard is actually turning us in! She's gonna sell us out, hand Jak over to that lunatic of a Baron for more torture all for her personal gain! Well, she's not laying a finger on Jak while I'm still breathing, I'll bite every fucking one of them off-

"I've had to incarcerate this lech a couple times for disturbing the peace. Nothing big. I'll handle this, I'm familiar with this low-life's tactics. There's a disturbance over in the south quarter, a bit of a robbery. Go back up the others if they need it."

The Big Uglies salute her and trot off, the planks vibrating with their heavy footfalls. They're big people. With lots of heavy armor. And guns. I don't like them.

"What happened?" Ashelin whispers as soon as it's clear, brushing me off of Jak as if _I _was the one who made him faint. Unfortunately, I can't do anything about it because _she_ has the strength to turn him over onto his back and lift up his shoulders. Instead, I just glare at her and hop back onto his chest; he is _my_ buddy, lady, and I sit where I wanna. I will sit on his face if I think I should.

"Nothing, he's just drained. Just needs a little sleep and he'll be up and angsting soon enough." Hmm, she's examining the scratches on his chest and little longer than necessary. Bad girl, undressing him with your eyes when he's not even awake. "Torn sent us to adjust the water level of the slums and we got jumped by about a jazillion Metalheads. They were camping the valve like newbs."

"Where can we take him?" Ladies and gentlemen, it has been a full three minutes and she has _yet_ to insult me or even sneer in my direction. Of course, that could be because she's clinging to Jak like a fuggin' fangirl, in a professional 'I'm only trying to determine his injuries' kind of way that I can see _right_ through.

"I don't know." Sarcasm is an art. "You think we have a place to live? We usually just sleep wherever we can find cover, or at the Underground barracks if there's room. But some of the vets just came back from some special ops there, so I doubt there's gonna be-"

"I'll make Torn free up a bed." Ooh, fiesty. I like that in a woman. "Try to get him to wake up and get to the Underground. I'll give Torn a call; I'd take him, but that'd be too suspicious. My guards'll be watching me closely, since myfatherhas insisted that I haven't been quite cooperative lately."

"There's that parental care I've been missing from my life." I am very glad she didn't get his looks, because then her ass would not be so pleasantly perky as sunny disposition.

"Just get him moving. And hurry up about it."

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* * *

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"Torn. You realize that you are dead, right?" I can't help but sneer in his direction, despite clinging very tightly to Stumbly Jak's shoulders. He doesn't even say a word, and only plods off in the direction of the barracks, but I've got some business to take care of, so I hop off. Floor's safer anyways, not as likely to collapse. "I'll be there in a bit, sweet cakes," I call after Jak, and he favors me with a limp wave.

"Now. You knew that the Metalheads were there en mass, didn't you?" Oof, scramble…yes, table. Eye-level, bitch. Eat it. You gotta take pleasure in the small victories in life. "You wanna get us killed."

"Yes," Tattoo-face grunts, scribbling something that he could pass as important that I know isn't onto a piece of wrinkly paper. "Go away, rat. I'm busy."

"Nuh uh, Dred-head. You gotta tell me why you felt like sending me and my sidekick into hell in a handbasket, and maybe I'll leave you in one piece." Yes, I know, that isn't fooling anyone, but point it out to me and I'll make Jak make you regret it. He'll do it, too.

Torn fixes his most intimidating stare, but I don't back down. Fuck you, man. You almost got me killed. Damn that, you almost got _Jak_ killed, and no one messes with my bud without hearing about it from me. And then getting smackdown from Jak. Usually in that order. I guess he noticed that I wasn't gonna scramble away like I usually do, because he sighs and mutters something. "Because Jak's my best, and I couldn't send anyone else out there and expect them to live."

"_We_ are your best. _Us_. And if you'd stop spending all your time playing with your Magic Markers in the mirror, maybe you'd clear your head of the fumes and understand that if we _die_, then you ain't got nobody to carry out the dirties for you." I am mad. I don't like being taken advantage of, and I like it even less when Jak is, because let's face it. Jak'd do it, just because he's still a big bleeding heart of gold. Stupid Jak.

"I'll keep it in mind. Now beat it." Deciding not to push my luck, I bound down from the table and drag myself down the hallway to look for Jak.

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A/N: Reviews! Yeee! ::fangirl squeal:: 

**EtheralShadow**: Whee! ::dances too:: Thank you! I usually don't write fluff or romance, so I'm quite proud that this seems to be doing so well! Plus, for my first Jak fic, too. Yay! I love the part where Jak congratulates Dax too, because it's great when tuff guys get mushy with their buddies or little kids (aka, The Kid).

Whee, brilliance? Happy times!

Whelp! Until next time, indeed!

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**Von**: Thank you! Yeah, I think Keira was kinda mean to Jak in Jak II…I didn't especially dislike her in the first Jak and Daxter except for the fact that she was kinda mean to Dax. But then Jak II came along and she was all stupid-girly about who Jak became, and that was it. I was all like, "No. Bitch. New Jak is better."

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**Dragoonknight1**: Aww, that is mean. But that's okay, I am Dark Jak and so I am invincible, and thus you cannot kill me. Death threats do not scare me, fu fu fu fu fuuu.

Hmmm…if it's not yaoi or Tess, that kinda narrows it down to two people, unless you're all for Mary Sues. Which no one should _ever be._

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**Demyrie**: Look at you and your essay-long reviews! I love it!

Yay, I am happy that my story makes you happy! I imagined that Jak and Dax would be dedicated to the bone…I mean, they've been through thick and thin, life and death situations. I don't think anyone could come out of those and not be close. Also, I think that if it came down to it, Jak would dump any girl just to stay with Dax forever. I value their friendship over any romance any day. I didn't see Ashelin or Keira staying with Jak in the desert. Good boy Dax!

Woot! I love me too!

I am also glad that Ashelin is coming alive! I'm trying to keep her as close to character as possible, and it's hard because they don't show much of the little redhead. But I'm doing my best!

Yeah, I'm in a bit of a slump with the descriptive stuff. I'm having difficulty writing my research paper, and the little bastard is taking it out on my stories as well. BAD COLLEGE! BAD!

Yeee, squealdom! I like it! And do not be jealous; I cannot write yaoi, and you obviously can. We all have our different talents! I like Jak/Daxter too. Actually, it's really the most realistic, too. I think Tess just likes Dax as a cute, fluffy thing…despite the ending to Jak3. And Jak likes Ashelin too fast, for being in a snit about her earlier in the game. Dax is the _only one_ to stick with Jak through _everything_, save his running away when Jak got caught, of course. But they'd have just shot Dax anyways, and then they'd both be dead. And thus no sequel. So I am grateful that Dax is occasionally cowardly.

But love! Thank you so much!!

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**Dude**: Thank you, and I shall!

A/N: Thanks again, RicciG, and I suggest you all go see her account, with that **_adorable_** JakxAshelin pic. I love it.


	4. Multiple Imbalance

A/N: Late chapter again, I know. But my laptop decided to go PMS on me, and that's where my story was. I finally bullied it into working one last time before I take it to be repaired, and here are the fruits of my efforts! No Ashelin this chapter, either, but she'll be in the next one. This one just wrote itself purely Jak and Dax, an equally important relationship in this story considering that my universe Jak practices bros before hos.

Also, RicciG is to be thanked for this chapter again. Pretty pictures!

Disclaimer: Grawr!

**Coming of Age**

_Chapter 4: Multiple Imbalance_

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I swear to God if that stupid Jinx guy calls me Blondie one more time, I'm gonna shoot him in the face with the Vulcan Fury. Watch him dance under rapid-fire rounds, because that bastard deserves it. Mog…is tolerable. Kind of like a retarded gorilla. He's okay mainly because he called me his hero, and it's nice to have support, even from mentally-handicapped apes. That other guy…what's his name? I don't even know what his name is. I'm sure it'll surface sooner or later; I remember Jinx's name because he's the supposed 'leader' of this rag-tag group, and I know Mog's because both of them keep telling him to shut up.

But I digress…on…a topic that hasn't begun yet. Which will right now. These idiots can't seem to comprehend the fact that they should stay _behind_ me unless they want a bullet in the ass. It's hard enough to hold off Metalheads from all sides, and it makes it harder that they're being complete and utter idiots about the formation. Since I'm the one with the gun-power and seemingly the _only _one here with any sort of combat experience, you'd think they'd let me scout ahead and clear the rooms for them before they waltz right in. Right?

Wrong! Why's that? Because that would make Jak's life easier! So while I'm busy grabbing my spoils or cleaning up behind their sorry asses, they jog ahead. And what happens when our little tour group jogs ahead without the escort? They get attacked. And what happens if one of them gets hurt because my break-neck sprint isn't enough to get there in time?

I get bitched at. By Jinx, Nasal-Voice asshole. "Jak, over here!" "We're not payin' you to stand around." "Will you take care of these guys?"

I would love to just turn around and scream, "I fuckin' _would_ if you would stay in one damn place long enough for me to get there!" But no, I'm not going to do that. Because I'm better than that. Better than them. By so, so much.

And _now_ we have a problem. There's some of those laser Metalheads up in front, and for once the Three Stooges have decided that going ahead would not be a good idea, so thankfully they leave it to me and wait behind me. Just three Metalheads, right? I can handle these bitches.

Unfortunately, they were smart and started sweeping their heads so that there's rarely a break in the lasers in order for me to get a crucial shot in. I'm hiding behind this pillar, listening to the metal hiss with every hit, and I poke my head out past it and fire off a wild shot only to have my shoulder clipped by one of those burning lasers.

Now, let's take a moment here to analyze something. Take your hand and press it to a hot stove. Keep it there for about ten seconds. Now transfer that feeling to your shoulder, and poke a couple needles in for good measure. Not nice, right?

Well, all I can do is grin and bear it, or in my case, snarl and bear it, but the tell-tale squeal echoing off of the ceiling tells me that I got one of the little hellions. So all I gotta do is fire off one more shot, pray it hits the same one, and then the lasers should lag enough for me to jump out and finish them off with the Blaster. Instead of being stupid twice, I take my gun in my right hand and slip my finger into the trigger hole, squeezing softly. I hold my breath; gotta time this right, or my hand is cinders-

There. Lag. I drop my hand –and gun- out past the pillar and fire off a couple of shots, yanking it back just as sizzling energy filled the space my limb had occupied milliseconds before. But my reward is a dying shriek, and I grin, jumping out into the space created by the absence of a third laser and finishing off the last two with four pinpoint-accuracy shots. Cocksuckers! Rot down here.

"That was dangerous, Jak," Daxter exclaims, wiping imaginary sweat from his brow. I glare; not like he was the one in danger. No, he was safe on my _left_ shoulder…exactly where he should be. Let him tell his stories, but Dax couldn't take on three laser Metalheads on his own. Better me get hurt than him get fried, least I have more body mass to char.

Jinx says something along the line of a congratulations, and we all skip merrily onward, me in the lead for once. Y'know, in this entire time down-

FUCKING CHRIST!

I wheel around and slam my back against the stone, knocking what little breath left in my lungs out with a weak 'whoosh!' My heart is pounding like a bass drum, hammering against my ribcage, demanding to be let out. I clutch at the cloth over it and will it to slow down, and eventually it does. It occurs to me suddenly that Daxter has seized my hair and is tugging it in an attempt to grab my attention. Gulping down mouthfuls of air, I politely ask him what's wrong. "Dax, what the fuck is wrong with you."

"Well, Jak, considering I nearly toppled off your shoulder and into enemy fire, I think you'd better be a teensy bit more courteous, eh?" He actually sounds pissed off. I guess it was rather abrupt, but blue fire erupting right in front of your nose isn't exactly something I had planned for, although I should have thought that sharp corners equals enemy ambush. I hate Metalheads. "But I have a point to this." He holds up his finger. The point. "I wanted to say that I noticed something."

"Yes Daxter." I feel like a teacher humoring a particularly stupid child. I'm pretty sure this is what it's really like.

"There are more laser-shooting-Metalheads around that corner."

It's actually quite difficult to keep my temper under control, much more difficult than I think anybody knows, even Daxter. I can't count on my hands how many times I've had to stop and take deep breaths, lest I do something drastic that I'm positive I would've regretted in the near future. It's not that big of a deal to me, because this change was actually pretty gradual over the two years I was imprisoned, but I can see how it would be a shock to people like Daxter and Keira, who've never seen me _talk_, let alone lose my temper. I'm pretty sure that the first time I blew my stack at Daxter without going dark was a strange thing for him. He barely talked for the rest of the day, and made me feel so guilty that I was begging out an apology come sunset.

Despite this, it's very hard for me to resist tossing him into the fray as a decoy.

"Daxter."

"Yes, old chum?"

"If you would kindly shut up, I'll work on keeping us alive, okay?"

"Righty-o." Daxter may have the biggest motormouth of existance, but even _he_ knows when to be quiet and let me work. Luckily, he's not being sarcastic and he actually does settle down, crawling over to my right shoulder –whoa, imbalance- for better cover, considering the air is thick with blue fire just to my left.

Ack, worse than I thought. I'm not used to him being on my right shoulder. I'm almost leaning over. "Dax, you can't sit there. You're throwing me off. Just geddown and let me take care of it, it's safer down there anyways."

Without question –I'm pretty sure he'd inquire about my sanity if he knew my plan- he scurries down my arm and settles onto the ground right next to my boots. I equip my Vulcan Fury barrel, take a deep breath, wink down at Dax, and throw myself directly into the line of fire.

"Jak-!!"

I don't even know if the lasers hit me, because the next thing I know I'm lying on the ground with a thousand blue shells around me, three smouldering, pockmarked metalheads in front of me, and Daxter shaking my arm so hard he might just jolt it right out of the socket. He's making a terrible racket.

"Jak! Jak, you idiot, get up! What the _hell_ is wrong with you, going in like that! You're always the one who says to wait for it and find their weak spot, why the fuck would you-"

"Because sometimes there's nothing you can do but jump in with guns blazing," I mutter, and sit up, much to his orange, fuzzy delight. Body check! Fun part of putting yourself into mortal danger.

Ah, that burn from before on my right shoulder. That's not too bad. Hmm…a couple of grazing burns on my calves, again, nothing really bad. Wow, I actually got out of this pretty good. I'm not even all that hurt, nothing a little aloe can't fix. Probably the worst injury I have is that bump on my head from when I toppled over- why _did_ I topple over? I don't understand. "Hey, Dax? Uh…refresh my memory."

Daxter, apparently so used to this routine that he doesn't even have to think about it or ever wonder why I'm asking, considering I didn't go Dark, replies, "You jumped out of there like a bat outta hell and just started shooting like crazy, and screaming like it too. I guess it'd be considered cool, if you were wearing some kickass armor and had a sword and stuff, but to me you just looked like a madman. More than usual."

"Right. Thanks." Sword and armor? Nutcase. Maybe I fell over from shock? Tch, not likely. Whatever, the occasional blackout never killed anyone, and I'm in one place with all my money in my pocket and my pants around my waist, so fate will leave me _unfazed. _Ahh, stretch, stretch. Dammit, I used up most of my Vulcan ammo. I was hoping to save that stuff for emergencies, but no use bitching about it now. I can only hope that I find some more KG crates down here. Hopefully one of 'em will have some green eco too, because now that I'm thinking about it, those burns actually hurt a lot.

"Nice shootin', Jak!" Jinx. "I can see why Krew favors you so much now. No price is too high to pay to get the mission done."

Well…there are _some_ prices I'm not willing to pay.

-

* * *

- 

I retract my previous statement.

_Now_ Jak is storming around like a bat outta hell. I don't even know _what's_ wrong with him anymore. All I know is that those guys set those bombs and he freaks out and yells at 'em, and then when the dust clears and they pick up that big jewel-thing, I take a glance at his face and see him glaring physical dismemberment and death at their backs. I swear to God that if he had the chance, he'd have nailed their balls to the wall…slowly. It's just a statue, what's the deal?

And it's not as if he'll offer any kind of rational explanation as to _why_ he's so pissed off, no. All he does is just stomp up the path back to the sewers entrance and shoot at the wall a couple times, bursting into vivid phrases that involve their mothers, several swear words, and certain barnyard animals. If I was on his, "Vow to Kill in the Near Future" list, which apparently is growing by the minute and already occupied by the Baron, Krew, Torn and every KG in the city, I would be very afraid.

As if I wasn't spooked _now_. He's practically breathing fire. I wouldn't be surprised if he started, though, because for all I know that could be some _other_ new dark power. You never know with him.

"I hate this city!" he suddenly screams at the sky, throwing down his gun –his precious, baby gun!- next to his feet like a toddler throwing his juicy cup. Hell, he's _acting_ like a toddler with a tantrum. He might as well start stomping his feet and throwing himself to the ground; it would hardly seem out of the ordinary. But needless to say, I'm a bit fed up with him not telling me why he's so angry, so I decide to act. Cautiously.

"Jak, I hate to break it to you, but join the freakin' club. You mind telling me what's got you all hot and bothered, _Blondie_?"

Oh, that was a mistake. That was a big mistake.

Suddenly, all that anger and hatred is directed towards me with only the turn of his head, and he snarls through gritted teeth, "Don't call me that," reaching out with one hand to grab me from his shoulder as I cower down on it.

-

* * *

- 

Holy fuck, what am I doing?

_You were about to seriously maim and possibly kill your best friend, idiot, _another part of my mind tells me. I thank…um, myself…for this observation and quickly lower my hand to clench at my side. This is bad. Anger I'm okay with. Hate…I'm okay with, as long as it's directed at those who deserve it.

Me getting ready to injure my best friend? I don't think so. Not acceptable.

"Dax…I'm sorry, I don't…I…" A little paw gingerly pats my ear, like someone would pat a dying, rabid dog. But I don't deserve his comfort, not when I was about to….yeugh. Just the _thought_ of me trying to hurt Daxter is disgusting. Makes my skin crawl. "You go ahead to the hideout. If Torn asks where I am, tell him that I said that it's none of his fucking business. Oh, and here-" Where is it, dammit? I know I have some, I know I…there it is. I shove our last five credits into his paws and gently lower him to the ground, where he stares at the money, and then me. "Take this. Get yourself something to eat, because you're gettin' way too bony for my tastes."

"Jak, I can't…this is the last of our money, I can't take this. Here, you take it, you do all the work anyways-"

I hold up my hand and to my great surprise, he stops talking. Just like that. If I had known that would work, I would have tried it _months_ ago. "No. I don't-" I stop myself before finishing the sentence, _I don't deserve it_ because I know he'd go on and on and **on** about how I do and blah blah blah. Shut up! I'm making a point. "I'm not…" Dammit, I can't say I'm not hungry either, because the truth is I'm _starving_, and I don't wanna lie to him. Finally, I settle on, "Just take it. I need some time to cool down, and we both know that my self-restraint as of late is in terrible condition, so…I think you'd be safer, ironically, on the streets than you would with me. Just go straight to the hideout after getting whatever you want and wait for me there; I promise I'll get back before it gets dark. Okay?"

Daxter looks back down at the credits, then with that miracle-working humor of his, salutes me with the currency and grins. "Well, the good Lord above knows that I'm starving to death, and you giving me this money just saved my life. I suppose we're even now, since I went and saved yours a while back." He turns and saunters off, immediately taking to the upper walkways to avoid air traffic jumping up and down. He leans over the edge for a moment, grins at me and calls, "See ya in a few!" and disappears from my sight.

…I don't know what I did to deserve him as a friend, but I don't remember ever being good enough.

* * *

A/N: REVIEWS!! Yeek! 

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**Dude**: Uh, what? ::rereads:: Oh, okay. Thanks! I'm glad it's written well, I aim to please! And I'm glad you think I write Dax and Ashelin well; the chick is harder than I thought.

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**Fearsomedeity**: Thanks! I like JakxAshelin pairings too, and yes, there are far too few of those. I wish I could see more out there. ::pouts:: But until that day comes, I shall continue with mine!!

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**Dragoonknight1**: Um…as far as I know, I have yet to read a Yuri Mary-Sue. Besides, Mary-Sues are almost NEVER good. Only on rarer-than-Haley's-Comet-occasions has there ever been a good one. And since Haley's Comet is fairly rare…I've never read one. And sure, Light Jak can heal himself, but he is _bitched_ when he runs outta white eco. Cuz I am INVINCIBLE. Mwaha.

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**Lunatic Pandora1**: Oh, fuck, I'm sorry. I did write a response; here's the one I had for your last review: **Lunatic Pandora1**: Yeah, that was good. I've lived around enough guys to know that if their team/driver wins whatever they're trying to win, personal space is a moot point for about five seconds, and then they pretend it didn't happen. Tee hee!

I have yet to read a Jak/Tess, and I don't think there'd be many due to the simple fact that from the start, Tess was hopelessly devoted to Dax (who'da thunk?). But if there _is_ one out there, I'd like to read it!

Ashelin/Torn is so common…I just wanted to see Jak get the hot girl, and I've never read an Ashelin/Jak story, nor had I seen one. I decided to make one of the first!

Sorry! And here's my response to this one!

I wouldn't know if torn fingernails hurt, because luckily, I've never torn one off. I mean they're completely OFF OF HIS HANDS. Like, no more fingernail. That very thought made me shudder like a madman. UrrrrRRRRUUUgghhghgh.

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**RicciG**: ACK! I _saw_ them! I love your pretty pictures, and every time I get so worried that I've lost too much interest and can't continue, you come along with the GORGEOUSNESS and bring it all back! This is the _second_ time everyone has to thank you for bringing about another chapter! W00t!

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**Ex-seal-66**: Thank you, I will, and I'll try! Augh. You are right. Thanks, I just fixed it. I unfortunately do not have a PS2, so I was basing this off of what I played at my friend's house, so I didn't have a ready source to check. But now I do! Because I bought and taped all the cut scenes, cuz I'm that damn good. Thanks for pointing that out!

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**Von**: You know what? I know why I like your name now. Because the first anime I ever saw was Escaflowne, and the main character, Van, his name is pronounced 'von.'

Yeah. Off subject. Back on!

Oh, I know. I had AOL, and the bitch booted me off whenever I was doing something that seems to be rather important and time-consuming, AKA writing reviews or journal entries. But dots!

Thanks!

I know, Ashelin was a bitch of a whiny mooch in 3, but whatever. Jak looked like he wanted to kiss her anyways. Because she's hot? Who cares.

Aw, thanks. I try, I try…and I know what you mean about laughing yourself stupid. Me and my best friend Lindsey just spent the last two hours making fun of Mega Man (don't get me wrong, MM's the shits) and we nearly DIED.

I am writing as…rabidly as I can. While making it coherent. And somewhat good.

You are very welcome. Thanks for the review!

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**grafik content**: Thank you very much! It's my personal belief that OOCness usually ruins a story, unless it's written remarkably well, so I try to apply that rule to myself as strictly as possible.

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**Etheral Shadow**: ::dies from the lateness of her posting:: It make you feel moldy? Is that a good thing? And yeah, it is disappointing that they only love him for his body. Oh well, you take what you can get.

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**andriod181**: I'll do my best.

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**miow**: Woo, well, this chapter is really late, so I guess we're even. Ahh, Keira is a snoot. But whatever.

Thanks! Dax isn't that hard once you try to understand him. And yes, death to Mary Sues. They are hate crimes against the people.

Yeah, I tried to come up with a different feel for the Jak/DarkJak transformations. I've heard that DJ is a different person, or that it's actually Jak when he goes Dark, and he means to do all that stuff, so I decided to kind of mesh the two. Which is cool by me.

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**blissfully ignorant**: W00t! Thanks! And I shall!

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**someone**: Thanks! Oh, was there supposed to be a link in your review? It doesn't show it...


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